“Dr. Brier, there is not a boy in this school, except Digby, who does not love and respect Howard Pemberton.  I hate to be a tale-bearer, but I know that for many months he has cherished a great animosity to Howard, and has taken every opportunity of showing it.  The story which he has now invented is as clumsy as it is false.  It is the worst kind of falsehood, for it has just a shadow of truth in it as regards one part of the story.  When Mrs. Brier showed the miniature, it pleased Howard, as it does everybody who sees it.  He made a remark to me that it was very much like my cousin, Miss Greenwood, and perhaps you know, sir, that many boys in the school think her very lovely and amiable.  Howard thought so too, and when he attempted to put the miniature in his pocket, as Digby untruthfully stated, he merely put it, in fun, to the place where they say the heart is.  It was what any of us might have done, and, wise or not wise, we would certainly have meant no harm.  But I am quite certain that afterward the portrait passed into the hands of Alick Fraser, and then into Digby’s, and after that it was placed in the case by Mrs. Brier.  I do not say, sir, that Digby Morton has willfully misrepresented facts for the purpose of getting one who was once his most intimate school friend into trouble, but I say that if Howard Pemberton is untruthful or dishonest, I do not believe an honest boy lives.”

The boys were quite excited over Martin’s speech—­the first set speech he had ever made—­and they greeted it with undisguised enthusiasm.

The Doctor seemed to think that somebody ought to say something equivalent to “silence in the court” at this display of sentiment, although in his heart of hearts he would have liked to step forward and pat Martin on the back for his manly defense of his friend.  But an interruption was made to the proceedings by a tap at the door.

“Can I speak with Mrs. Brier?” said a servant, putting her head in at the door.

“No, Mrs. Brier is engaged,” answered the Doctor, rather sharply for him.

Servants have a knack of knowing what is going on in a house, and this servant seemed to be in the secret which had called the little assembly together, for she would not take the rebuff, but said: 

“If you please, sir, I must speak to Mrs. Brier.”

So Mrs. Brier left the room for a moment, to return again in company with the servant.

“What is this all about?” asked the Doctor.

“If you please, sir, this morning, in making the bed Mr. Pemberton sleeps in, I noticed the ticking loose, and I put my hand in, as I felt something hard, and I found this snuff-box.”

I have read in books about boys who, under some exciting necessity, have started in an instant from boyhood to manhood, just as I have read about people’s hair in time of trouble turning from black to white in the course of a night.  Howard Pemberton did not spring from boyhood to manhood at this strange discovery, nor did his hair turn white, but the words of the servant had a sudden and powerful influence upon him.  In a moment he turned to his accuser and said: